


Miles to Go

by The_White_Rabbit42



Series: Home for the Holidays [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:17:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: Your cross country trip with Gabriel continues, and you find he's not the only one who's adjusting to his newly human status.





	Miles to Go

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics at the end are not mine. They belong to Robert Frost and are from his poem,"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."

 

You’d never seen Gabriel sleep before.  His soft, deep breaths were as odd as they were comforting.   _ Alive  _ each one said.   _ Real _ .  Even if he wasn’t quite himself.  

 

To his credit, he had lasted as long as he could, though most of your conversations had been stilted and stiff.  It felt more rusty between you than forced, though the weight of everything that remained unspoken hung heavily around you.  He wasn’t the only one with things on his mind, and the silences that lapsed were just as much your fault as his.  

 

By the time he’d drifted off, you gained another wind.  Each one that came didn’t last as long as the one before, and you found this one only took you through to the early morning hours.  Heavy eyelids and an increasingly blurry mind made any exit with something listed as twenty-four hours a temptation.  Every time you almost pulled off, however, you could hear Dean’s voice in the back of your mind.  

 

_ Keep driving.   _

 

Normally you didn’t take orders from a  Winchester.  

 

Normally you weren’t in charge of protecting a being everyone in creation (and their father) had failed.  

 

How many times had Chuck brought back Castiel for doing the right thing?  Not only that, but the angel had even gotten a promotion one of those times.  Was it simply because he was easier to rebuild?  Even then, plenty of time had passed since the apocalypse.  Surely even an archangel could have been reconstructed well before then. 

 

Of course the real question was why bring him back _ human _ ?  

 

You sincerely hoped this wasn’t some misguided reward in the Almighty’s eyes.   _Congratulations!_ _For doing the right thing_ ** _and_** _giving up your family to protect the beings technically I love more than you and the entirety of Heaven, you can now become one of them!_

 

Your faith in Chuck was spotty enough to believe that could be a very real possibility. 

 

A stray thought came careening in out of nowhere: what if Chuck hadn’t brought him back at all?

 

He and Amara  _ had  _ skipped town to ride off into the sunset, leaving what was left of their mess for the Winchesters to clean up (and the world to deal with).  If he was back, why would it be to mess with Gabriel and not help the Winchesters?

 

Great.  Not only were you exhausted, but you had just given yourself a headache.  

 

Your fingers flexed around the steering wheel and you did your best to stretch your stiff frame.  Gabriel shifted in tandem with your movements, his arms folded tightly against his chest as he turned his back to the window, trying to find some warmth.  Turning on the heat was a terrible idea, but you found yourself reaching for the knob anyway.  Who were you to deny him such a basic comfort, when so much had already been taken from him?

  
  


***

  
  


It wasn’t your body’s limitations that had you pulling off the interstate a few hours later but your car’s, as your gas gauge flashed anxiously at you.  You were thankful for the reprieve.  Your muscles ached to be stretched, your shoulders especially, while other parts of you were simply eager to have feeling returned to them.  

 

Gabriel remained undisturbed as you pulled into the brightly lit gas station.  You debated whether or not you should wake him, uneasy with the thought of leaving him alone and vulnerable, even if it was only for a few minutes.  He looked so peaceful, however, something you doubted he’d experienced much of since returning.  

 

You quietly slipped out the door, finding you couldn’t be the one to ruin that right now.  The first thing you did was raise your arms above your head, reaching as far up as your could.  The sensation was glorious, the night air refreshing as it nipped over your face and along your hands.  You walked around to the gas pump, getting everything set for it to fill while you headed inside.

 

The clerk behind the counter grunted a greeting as you stepped through the door, looking about two minutes away from falling asleep in the magazine she was reading.  It wasn’t until you made your way toward the snacks that you remembered you weren’t the only one that needed to eat.  

 

Except you had no idea what to buy for someone you couldn’t recall ever eating anything that wasn’t loaded with sugar or smothered in chocolate.  

 

You hadn’t even seen him drink anything other than hot chocolate.  Did he even like anything else?  You tried not to overthink it, but for some reason you found yourself nervous over it.  What if you chose wrong?  What if he didn’t like it? 

 

_Get it together, girl_.  Everything in this place was probably well below his standards.

 

You hastily grabbed a handful of things ranging from sweet to salty to a mixture of both.  If you couldn’t give him anything decent, you could at least give him the choice of what processed flavor he wanted to shove down his throat until you could get him some real food.  Drinks were a little tougher, and as you stood debating in front of the large refrigerator doors, you caught sight of your reflection staring back at you.  

 

Sweet Chuck did you look terrible.  Your face was thin.  Limp strands of hair hung down around it, augmenting the sallow color of your skin (as did the dark circles beneath your red-rimmed eyes).  Your lips were dry and cracked.  No wonder Gabriel had been less than enthused.  Not only had he been passed over like a holiday fruitcake, but he had to be wondering how you were supposed to protect him when you looked one bad day away from waking up in a hospital bed.  

 

You opened the door, dispelling the thoughts. It didn’t matter.  The Winchesters had asked you to protect him, and you had promised them you would.  

 

You brought your items to the front, your mind too caught up in reaching your destination (and all that would mean) to pay much attention to the cost.  You handed the woman your fake credit card, scrawling something illegible when you couldn’t remember what alias this one was under, before gathering your things and leaving.  

 

You stepped back outside, and the chill washing over your face once more helped you feel a little more grounded.  You let out a slow breath, watching the way it crystallized into a white cloud.  You couldn’t remember the last time you stood still long enough to even notice such a thing.  

 

As the air cleared, your car came into focus and you froze.  

 

“No,” you breathed, the bag sliding out of your grip.

 

You had only been inside a few minutes.  

 

You had driven, just like they said.  

 

It wasn’t possible.   

 

Dread coiled tightly within your stomach as you continued to stare at your empty vehicle.

 

_ How could they have found him so quickly? _

 

_ Not just him  _ your instincts screamed as a hand came down on your shoulder.  You spun, your shoulder connecting with the side of the entryway as you grabbed hold of your attacker.  A deluge of adrenaline rushed through your veins, following closely by a rush of anger as the words  _ not again _ repeated alongside the frantic beating of your heart.  You were prepared to send the figure crashing through the glass door (or shatter  _ them _ trying) when a familiar voice cut through the red haze overtaking your vision.

 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Gabriel said, his hands raising in alarm as he caught the rage flooding your face.  “Easy on the goods, sugar.”

 

“Jesus,” you gasped, your lungs remembering how to work again.  You were almost shaking from how your entire body became energized from the manic energy skittering through your system.

 

That was certainly  **_one_ ** way to wake you up.

 

“Not quite.”  Like before, his tone remained flat, the remark reminding you more of an echo of his previous personality than carrying any real humor behind it.  

 

He looked down, his brow raising curiously, drawing attention to the fact you still had a hold of him.  Your grip had loosened over his shirt, but your hand ended up splayed over his shoulder, unconsciously gripping it in confirmation that he was still there.

 

“Where were you?”  You demanded, finally letting go of him as you began to pick up the items that had scattered across the ground.

 

“Enjoying the human condition in all it’s splendor.”  His voice was heavily sardonic, his hands gesturing widely in front of him before he crouched down to help.  “Restrooms are around the corner, by the way.”  

 

Right.  He needed more than just sustenance.  This was going to take more getting used to than you realized.  

 

You threw the rest of the snacks in the bag as he grabbed the last loose bottle.  As you both rose, you noticed his eyes never left the drink in his hand.

 

“Chocolate milk?”  He asked.  The eyebrow that shot back up again said  _ seriously _ ?

 

You were glad your cheeks already held some color as you felt a faint warmth spread across them.

 

“They were out of hot chocolate,” you told him reaching into your pocket and handing him a five dollar bill; you didn’t know why you felt so foolish, but your embarrassment had your words come out more clipped than usual.  “If you want something else, go grab it.  We need to keep moving.”

 

You brushed past him, letting him decide what he wanted to do.  You could feel his eyes on you, your back tingling beneath his scrutiny.  After a few moments he caught up with you, moving to your side, though he said nothing as he looked thoughtfully back down at the drink.  When you reached your door you realized he had taken care of the pump for you and closed the gas tank, though you never envisioned the archangel needing to pump gas before.

 

You suddenly wondered just how many things he’d have to do for the first time in his entire existence.

 

You both climbed back into the car, his gaze flicking over uncertainly as he watched you put the key in the ignition.  

 

“You ok?”  He asked, his voice moving just beyond the border of neutral, but still too ambivalent to register as much of anything.

 

If you were being honest, no you were  _ not _ .  For a moment you thought  _ you’d _ set the new record on how fast someone could fail him.  

 

“Yeah,” you murmured, turning the key in the ignition.  “Just tired.”  

 

He continued to regard you, gold once again appraising.

 

“We can find a place to rest.  We don’t have to keep going,” he informed you.

 

“Yeah, we do,” you told him, dropping your hand to the shifter.

 

“And I suppose the hex bags we were given are just to make a fashion statement?”  He took hold of the leather cord around his neck, pulling out the item in question and wiggling it around for you.    

 

“That does go great with your shirt,” you deflected, pushing the button to put the car into gear when something warm and surprisingly soft folded over the top of your hand.  For a moment, all you could do was stare.  For all his flirtation and brazen remarks, he almost made it a point not to touch you.  You always assumed it was his way of telling you  _ not interested. _

 

Apparently dying and coming back human changed the rules of the game.

 

“You really don’t have to do this,” he insisted.  You glanced up, surprised, not only by the contact, but by the sober tone he took.  You found his features to be just as serious, something you weren’t even aware he knew how to be, and you suddenly got the feeling you were no longer just talking about the drive.

 

“Yes, Gabriel, I do,” you said quietly.  The determination that welled up within you became softened by the mixture of gratitude and guilt that always resurfaced when you thought of him.  You were completely unaware of how much of that began to bleed through the surface or his own shock at it.  His own emotions flooded his features, but by that point you had already turned away, too focused on getting back on the road so you could get him someplace safe.  

 

You slipped your hand out from beneath his, placing it back on the wheel.  As silence fell between you, a little snippet snuck into your mind; a tiny fragment of a memory, tucked carefully away, jarred loose by that same spark you felt earlier.  It was fuzzy around the edges from having been buried so deep for so long.  This time when it surfaced, however, it was filled more with fond remembrance than the usual longing.

 

_ A woman’s voice, so tired and worn, sang softly through the darkness, chasing away the unpleasantries that often crept in with the night.  _

 

_...I have promises to keep _

_ And miles to go before I sleep _

_ And miles to go before I sleep… _

 

Like her, you now had promises, ones that extended beyond what you’d told the Winchesters you’d do.  Keeping Gabriel alive would be your biggest priority, but he deserved so much more than just that, and while you knew you couldn’t give him everything he did, you would do your best to give him what you could.  


End file.
